The train at Platform 9¾ resembled a living mirage. Steam wisped from under its wheels, and voices were everywhere — children, parents, house-elves with children's luggage that seemed larger than the elves themselves. Magic hung in the air, promising the wonders that lay ahead. And yet, my eye kept catching on the ordinary things. Muggle-borns dressed in familiar, though slightly outdated 21st-century clothing… Ah, I'd kill for a pair of sneakers, but I wouldn't give my father a heart attack. Lucius Malfoy was a man of… strong convictions, and once my memories with the knowledge of the "canon" awoke — I'll call it foreknowledge — well, let's just say my view of the paternal figure was no longer so pristine. Even though this foreknowledge was already fraying at the seams and much of it didn't align, looking at my father as a fully-formed personality, I no longer wanted to emulate him in everything. Though I admit, he is an excellent businessman and manipulator, and he loves his family, say what you will.
My parents and Draco were with me, by the way. Draco was studying the Hogwarts Express intently. The fanboy inside me had nearly squealed at first, but I kept my composure. In my hand was a black briefcase with an ornately patterned handle, expanded magically, of course. I liked the briefcase even more after I managed to fit all my luggage inside — the weight had increased, but only just a little. No wonder it cost as much as an Auror's three-month salary… probably.
Though, my briefcase was nowhere near the scale of expansion that could fit a mini-zoo with room to spare, like Newt's case in Fantastic Beasts. I had asked my father — increasing the spatial volume in such a small suitcase to that degree was beyond even the best artifact crafters.
At my feet was a cage with an owl as black as night, with equally black eyes, who hooted in time with my words and seemed a bit restless from the surrounding noise.
"Don't forget, son," my father said, glancing at his watch. "You are a Malfoy, which means you must choose your acquaintances carefully and always present your best self."
I simply nodded; I'd heard this a thousand times already. The words he'd repeated to me for years had long lost their novelty. Mother just hugged me tighter.
"Good luck, darling. Don't forget to write when you arrive."
"Of course, Mum."
"Maybe you'll take me with you?" said Draco, who, by the way, had tried to stuff himself into my bag a couple of days prior.
"Nope, only Dart," I said. Draco looked enviously at the owl and turned away. "You'll grow up soon enough and go to Hogwarts yourself. See you later, little brother," I said, ruffling Draco's hair, then picked up the cage with my free hand, turned, and headed for the train. By the way, I really had named the owl "Dart". Together, we'd be called Dart Arcturus.
Smirking at the reference, I quickened my pace.
"Well, Dart, let's see what awaits us at Hogwarts," I said. Dart hooted something in response. But I only knew English, Russian, and French so far; Owl, alas, remained a mystery to me.
After seeing my family off with a glance, I boarded the train. The corridors were already filling with children pushing, shouting, and having fun… at the expense of my nerves.
I passed several compartments filled with laughter and chatter. In one, I noticed two boys eagerly arguing about Quidditch.
"…the Ballycastle Bats crushed the Tutshill Tornados!"
"Only because their Seeker bribed the referee!"
I shook my head. Clearly not my crowd. Eventually, I found an empty compartment, stowed my things, and sat down. My parents were long gone from the platform.
I settled by the window, watching the bustle on the platform. Wizards of all ages crowded around the train; voices and laughter echoed. Chaos, in a word.
Soon, the compartment door slid open, and a boy with rather untidy dark chestnut hair peered in. His sharp, studying gaze wasn't typical for a boy our age, but instead, his eyes held a glint of intelligence and awareness rare for our years. I intuitively knew I could talk to him, or just sit quietly and think, and he wouldn't bother me with inane chatter. He was dressed in a dark grey suit, clearly tailor-made — stylish but without excess.
"May I?" he asked calmly, with a hint of laziness.
I nodded, gesturing to the seat opposite.
"Marcus Avery," he introduced himself, closing the door behind him. "I don't believe we've met before."
"Arcturus-Corvus Armand Malfoy. Just Arcturus is fine," I replied, shaking his hand. "Correct, our paths haven't crossed. Although I know your family."
The Avery family owned one of the largest bookshops in Diagon Alley, with several others in magical quarters across Britain. They also had a shop in Knockturn Alley with the catchy name "The Grey Tome," which sold semi-legal merchandise, including books and artifacts. How did I know? Before school, my father had briefed me on potential classmates deemed suitable for acquaintance.
"I know your family as well. Although, only a first-year Muggle-born wouldn't know the House of Malfoy," Avery smirked, making himself comfortable. "Fortunately, Father decided it was better for my social skills to send me to Hogwarts rather than keep me in homeschooling."
"Hm, a familiar situation."
While we were talking, the compartment door opened several times. Older students looked for friends, while first-years, looking confused, peered in and timidly asked:
"Is this seat taken?"
We saw a few Muggle-borns, identifiable at a glance by their clothing — modern, mundane attire, though my memory hinted it was already old-fashioned for that other me.
Though, I had to remember, I was living in a time when that other me hadn't even been born yet. Avery, from first impressions, seemed neutral towards Muggle-borns, much like I was lately. Without undue arrogance, we sent them on their way. We simply didn't want to be magical world tour guides. Who wants to be constantly pestered with questions about the wizarding world? So the answer was…
"No, it's taken."
One boy tried to insist, but meeting our indifferent gazes, he embarrassedly retreated. Of course, I now saw Muggle-borns and Muggles differently, having experienced life as an ordinary, non-magical person myself. But that didn't change the fact that I didn't want to ruin my reputation and relations with other scions of magical Britain's elite. Nor did I want problems with my father.
Still, I saw nothing shameful in being Muggle-born. In my opinion, one shouldn't be despised just for having different blood. First, every pure-blood family started with a Muggle-born. Second, all this breeds hatred from both sides, which is vile and fraught with consequences. Especially when one side starts believing the other has no right to exist because they're somehow inferior.
No one else came in after that, as Marcus, now slightly annoyed, simply drew his wand and with the spell "Colloportus!" — the locking charm — sealed the door.
"That's better…" After that, we sat in peace, trying to ignore the attempts of some to open the door.
"The first thing at Hogwarts is to find a spell that blocks outside noise," I concluded, and Mark nodded in agreement.
After that, we found common ground and started chatting about homeschooling. We'd been taught everything necessary since childhood. For example, Arithmancy, or rather basic mathematics, up to about 7th or 8th-grade level. Of course, the education didn't stop there.
"I assume you were also taught writing, literacy, maybe even a foreign language?"
"Richtig geraten (You guessed right), I know German almost like a native. What did you study?"
"Ein… wenig Deutsch… und… (A little German and) et parle couramment le français (and I speak French fluently)."
"I was also taught some etiquette. Well, my mother drilled it into me. I won't even ask you about that," Marcus said, scratching the back of his head.
"I should hope your assumption stems not from the norm of such education in ancient and noble families, but merely from my cultivated demeanor and conduct, proportionate to my status and respect for my interlocutor?"
"Can you put it simpler? I'm not a big fan of flowery speech. If we're to be friends, let's be normal, alright?"
"Sorry, just wanted to show off. Don't be shy, my mother taught me too. By the way, I'm also not a big fan of using complex, ornate speech among friends. I think we'll get along."
"We already are, friend. Speaking of which, how do you feel about a subject like History? I heard it's taught horribly at Hogwarts. My cousin complained."
"History is an interesting subject, but it needs to be presented engagingly. Speaking of history, a fun fact: Merlin was in Slytherin," I said, watching him with a sly grin.
"A student of Salazar Slytherin, yes."
"Alright, that was a test. I also know the Founders were taught by the Great Merlin. But Salazar had a student named Merlin. That's where the confusion comes from for many."
Of course, I had been thoroughly taught Magical History, which included regular history too. And honestly, it turned out that everything significant in history before the Statute of Secrecy involved wizards. I'm amazed they managed to erase all that from Muggle history…
I'm amazed how they managed to cram so much into a child's head in just eleven years. I even had a superficial knowledge of Magical Law, world structure, and economics. Not to mention, I studied Heraldry, and that's before broomstick training.
It wasn't all at once, of course, but from age four, my mother started teaching me, and from age six, several tutors were hired for all these subjects. I even took a few months of flying lessons from a professional, albeit retired, Quidditch player. Still, he had been a Chaser for the legendary Caerphilly Catapults during their 1956 match when they won the European Cup final.
Flying is actually a skill on par with riding a bicycle — not strictly necessary, but most people can do it. And considering it's a key mode of transport in the magical world, you could draw a parallel to driving a car, only easier.
As for spells, one of which Marcus had demonstrated, they were studied after turning eleven and consequently purchasing a wand. Before that, any wand-based magic was harmful to the developing magical channels of a young wizard. Even a single unfortunate Lumos could damage the magical core, the fundamental part of which only finalized on one's eleventh birthday.
And that's not even mentioning wandless magic. Believe me, if you could train a child from infancy, strengthening their magic even by a tenth… then every child from a magical family, with rare exceptions, would be practicing magic from the cradle. But unfortunately, or fortunately, all that remained in the fanfictions from that other world, along with things like ancestral altars and bloodline magic. There are family curses, but you understand, dark magic is a severe and merciless thing.
My birthday is on January 1st, so I had half a year before Hogwarts to study charms. During that time, my tutor in Charms, Hexes, and Jinxes managed to teach me a dozen of the most useful ones for the moment. Starting with basic Nox and Lumos, Levicorpus — oh, and the repelling charm Flipendo — and, of course, they made sure to drill a couple of household charms into me, like the locking and unlocking spells.
Overall, I could have learned more spells in that time, but why? I had a basic set for almost any situation that might occur at school. The rest could, and should, be learned at school as needed.
And it's not like spells are easy to learn. It's not just an incantation and a wand movement — it's a whole mini-ritual designed for a specific effect, and a ritual without intention and a clear mental image of the desired outcome is, by definition, impossible.
Although, if the ritual merging our personalities had happened earlier, I would have definitely tried to learn more. Still, whether I'm a dimension-hopper or just went out for a walk and ended up here… I hate those transmigration tropes… they just shatter your mind to pieces… but on the other hand, this new "Me" emerged. A "Me" that is neither one nor the other. All in all, I'm more satisfied than upset.
Overall, I'm ready for the safest place in Britain. The only thing missing is a bulletproof vest, but no matter how much I begged my father, he never agreed to buy me an amulet with protective charms that would shield me from a couple of nasty curses if it came to it. And I'm not joking about the 'safest place' — just recall the chronicles… Thankfully, I have about three years before the catastrophe named Harry arrives. I hope the school really does remain safe until then.
Why isn't Father more of a paranoid, huh? Maybe in the canon there were also two children, and one of them just didn't have a protective amulet costing 920 Galleons… Alright, I'm just grumbling.
Gradually, as I talked with Marcus, I opened up more, and so did he. The guy turned out to be decent and sharp, though I admit he was a bit lazy — but that's a universal affliction. So we chatted quietly as the journey continued, until the lady with the trolley managed to open our magically locked door!
"No personal space! You can lock it, but it doesn't matter!" Marcus complained indignantly.
"Ah, come on, stop whining. Here, hold this Chocolate Frog, just catch it! Otherwise, it'll get chocolate everywhere!" I said, my mouth full of some interesting sweet that tasted like marshmallow but had the consistency of jelly.
"Yeah, I know, give it here," said this supposedly tough guy confidently. And guess how many seconds it took for the frog to escape his lazy grasp and start trying to leap out of the compartment. Its first attempt ended with a smack against the glass, leaving us with a smeared window and a lifeless half-a-frog.
"Sad and tasty, right, Marcus?" I said, trying to hold back laughter at the sight of my first friend in this world finishing the remains of the frog while staring at the smeared window.
"Who even invented this nonsense? Why does a sweet need the ability to escape being eaten!"
"Pffhaahahaha! I can't… pffhahaha… I can't! Merlin, Marcus, I told you to hold it tight!"
"It's not funny! Pffh… pffha… ahahaha. Okay, maybe a little funny."
"Good that it's funny, but I'll make a note just in case not to give you any more Chocolate Frogs," I said, squinting. Marcus looked at me with reproach.
"Fine, I'll write it in pencil, but the quill isn't far. Seriously though, we're almost at Hogwarts, we should get ready. Let's see what awaits us there…"
Soon, the train indeed began to slow down. The evening breeze from the slightly open window felt pleasant on my face, wrappers from sweets were scattered around, and we, content, watched the station platform. It's better to wait a couple of minutes for the initial crowd of students to thin out before disembarking peacefully.
With great reluctance, I finally left my briefcase behind, hoping the local elves wouldn't damage my treasure. I had to leave Dart behind too. Oh well… no need to worry, the house-elves will surely handle everything perfectly. It's time for me to go.
"Shall we go now?"
"Let's go, Avery. They're probably waiting for us outside."
We stepped out. The evening air was fresh, and ahead, on a small rise, loomed a tall, burly man with a lantern.
"Firs'-years! Over here!" a loud voice boomed. The half-giant was shifting from foot to foot, calling the first-years. Of course, it was Hagrid. I knew this bearded giant even better than my new friend.
The kind giant from the films was right here, as if he'd stepped off the screen. I remembered that the actor who played Hagrid in that world had passed away… The fan in me wanted to go up and thank the big man for everything. I'll try to befriend him; it's easy with simple, kind people. Although, as far as I recall, for Hagrid, there's nothing more important than Dumbledore, so I won't forget that.
We moved down the path towards the lake shore. The water lapped quietly in the darkness, and finally, a fleet of small boats came into view.
"No more'n four to a boat, an' hold on tight, or yeh'll fall in, an' that's… umm… not good!"
I looked around: there were at least two dozen boats, and future first-years were already settling into each. Marcus Avery and I climbed into one, and another boy joined us. Despite the gamekeeper's words, some boats didn't have a full complement of future students.
Once everyone was seated, the boats set off, smoothly cutting through the dark water's surface. The night sky stretched above us, studded with stars, and the lake, reflecting their light, created a feeling of infinite, bottomless space. In the distance, silhouetted against the darkness, stood Hogwarts brightly.
The huge castle with its many towers and glowing windows rose above the water, as if part of the night landscape, and the sight was breathtaking. A magical, mesmerizing view that would be etched into memory for the rest of my life.
"Impressive," Avery said quietly.
I just nodded, watching the boats glide across the water, approaching this place where a new chapter of our lives was about to begin.
Everyone was silent, examining this architectural marvel, undoubtedly comparable to one of the wonders of the world. One by one, the boats docked at a stone shore at the foot of the castle. Hagrid helped some students climb out.
"Jus' a little further, an' yeh'll be in the best school of witchcraft and wizardry! Hogwarts!" he said joyfully, leading us up a stone path to massive oak doors.
Every step towards the castle seemed filled with anticipation. The starlight now mixed with the golden glow from the windows, and the clean air, saturated with magic, only fueled the imagination. My brain, like a sculptor, was carving the image of a majestic castle next to a lake reflecting the entire firmament on its surface.
I don't know how long we walked. I was lost in thought. Hogwarts was captivating and gave me a lot to think about, but soon Hagrid's booming voice sounded again.
"Welcome to Hogwarts!" said Hagrid, swinging the great castle doors open before us.